Shellac - Squirrel Song lyrics

This is a sad f**ing song We'll be lucky if I don't bust out crying How does it feel? Your night light Your curling iron Lit up by the sweat of others For pennies a day But not from November to May The floor is littered With wood chips and apple cores And hulls of acorns There is a chattering sound Because they were squirrels Real squirrels And there were thousands This isn't some kind of metaphor Goddamn, this is real